#kang daeho x male reader

[ourseasone]

❝ put your lips on my skin and you might ignite it ❞

in which ∘ ∘ ∘ life felt like it wasn’t worth living anymore. your parents had cut you off like you were nothing, your boss didn’t even hesitate before firing you, and the mountain of debt hanging over your head was just the cherry on top. what was even left for you here? but when a mysterious man approached you with a strange little card in hand, you decided to take it ━ one last desperate attempt to change your miserable fate. little did you know, this decision would lead you where survival meant everything… and where a certain someone, kang daeho, would change your life forever.

✹ pairing ⑉⑉⑉ kang dae-ho x male reader

✹ warnings ⑉⑉⑉ suicidal thoughts, homophobia, deadly games, stabbing, shooting, blood, deaths, psychological pressure, sexual & death jokes, manipulation, suggestive content, betrayal, a lot of swearing, mental health issues, dehumanization && more.

✹ statut ⑉⑉⑉ ongoing

✹ wordcount ⑉⑉⑉ 3005

✹ taglist ⑉⑉⑉ OPEN (please let me know if you wanna be added!)

CHAPTER 001 ∘ ∘ ∘ six feet under

CHAPTER 002 ∘ ∘ ∘ heads or tails ‣ coming soon

CHAPTER 003 ∘ ∘ ∘ in progress

CHAPTER 004 ∘ ∘ ∘ in progress

CHAPTER 005 ∘ ∘ ∘ in progress

[carnalcrows]

wide awake

genre: smut

pairing: dae-ho x m!reader

CW: bottom reader, sub!top dae-ho, public sex, reader rides dae-ho like there's no tommorow, breeding, creampie, y/n is not used.

word count: 1.3k

The living quarters were eerily quiet, the only sounds the soft snores and occasional murmurs of the sleeping players around you. The lights cast long shadows over the rows of bunk beds, leaving much of the room in darkness.

You sat on the edge of your bunk, your eyes scanning the room for any sign of movement. Sleep wasn’t an option—someone needed to stay awake, especially after what had happened the last few nights. You’d taken it upon yourself to watch over your group, ensuring they made it to the next game alive.

But then, you heard it.

A faint whimper broke the stillness, barely audible over the ambient noise. At first, you dismissed it, thinking it was just someone caught in the throes of a bad dream. But then you heard it again—your name, whispered like a prayer, soft and desperate.

Your gaze shifted to the source: Dae-ho, curled up on his bunk just a few feet away. His face was tense even in sleep, his brows drawn together as his lips formed your name again, this time louder, more pleading.

Your heart skipped a beat, a mix of curiosity and something far more primal sparking within you. Quietly, you slipped from your bunk and padded over to his. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his hands clutching the thin blanket like it was a lifeline.

“Dae-ho,” you whispered, your voice low and steady as you crouched beside him.

His eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused, but the moment they met yours, something shifted. His face flushed, his lips parting as he stared at you, clearly caught between embarrassment and relief.

“Y-you’re awake,” he stammered, his voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.

“You were calling my name,” you said, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “Pretty loudly, too. What’s going on?”

“I... It’s nothing,” he muttered, turning his face away, but the deepening blush on his cheeks betrayed him.

“Doesn’t sound like nothing,” you pressed, your voice soft but teasing as you leaned closer. Your hand found his, gently prying his fingers from the blanket. “Come on, Dae-ho. Talk to me.”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. Finally, he exhaled, his breath shaky as he whispered, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

The admission hung between you like a live wire, the air thick with tension. You couldn’t deny the flutter in your chest—or the way your own pulse quickened at his words.

“Is that so?” you murmured, your voice dropping as you leaned in closer, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. “And what exactly were you thinking about?”

Dae-ho swallowed hard, his breath hitching as your proximity overwhelmed him. “You... Just you,” he admitted, his voice barely audible.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. The vulnerability in his eyes was stark, but so was the desire simmering beneath the surface. It was intoxicating.

“Well,” you said, your lips curling into a sly smile. “I guess I’ll have to help you with that.”

You moved closer, your hand resting lightly on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. His breath hitched again as your lips brushed against his, a featherlight touch that sent a jolt through both of you.

The kiss deepened quickly, his hands gripping your arms as if afraid you’d pull away. His lips were warm and insistent, moving against yours with a need that matched your own.

You pulled back just enough to whisper against his lips, “Quiet, or you’ll wake the others.”

Dae-ho nodded, though the look in his eyes said he wasn’t sure he could comply. You smirked, brushing your lips against his one more time before letting the moment linger, the promise of more hanging in the air like a loaded gun.

Dae-ho nodded, though his breath was still unsteady, and the way his eyes roamed over your face made your heart race. You could tell he was holding back, his hands trembling slightly where they rested on your arms.

“You’re not very good at being quiet, are you?” you teased, brushing a thumb over his flushed cheek.

“I can be,” he said, though the way his voice wavered betrayed his confidence.

“Guess we’ll see about that,” you murmured, your lips finding his again, slower this time but no less deliberate. The kiss deepened naturally, your tongues meeting in a dance that left both of you breathless.

Dae-ho’s hands slid down your arms, hesitating for a moment before gripping your waist. The touch was tentative but firm, as though he was still testing the waters. You leaned into him, letting him know without words that this was okay, that he was okay.

You pulled back slightly, enough to study his expression. His lips were swollen from your kisses, his pupils blown wide in the dim light. You couldn’t help the grin that tugged at your lips.

“What?” he asked, his voice hushed but tinged with curiosity.

“Nothing,” you said softly. “You’re just... adorable when you’re flustered.”

That earned you a shy smile, and for a moment, the tension eased, replaced by a quiet warmth that settled between you. But then his hands tightened on your waist, his fingers digging in slightly, and the hunger in his gaze returned.

“I’ve been holding this in for so long,” he confessed, his voice trembling. “Watching you, thinking about you... I didn’t think I’d get a chance to say it, let alone—”

“You don’t have to explain,” you interrupted, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I get it.”

His breath hitched, his hands sliding up your back as he pulled you closer. The kiss that followed was more urgent, his lips moving against yours like he was afraid the moment would slip away if he didn’t hold onto it.

You let him take the lead this time, savoring the way his confidence grew with every touch, every kiss. His hands explored cautiously at first, but soon they were gripping you with a boldness that sent shivers down your spine.

He slowly pulled your track pants down, while trailing kisses down your neck. His hand went under your boxers, pulling out your upright erection. He pushed his thumb over the head, precum collecting onto it. You shuddered, every movement of his hand sending jolts of electricity up your body. 

He pulled his own track pants and boxers down, and slowly lifted you onto his lap. You straddled him, pushing your own boxers all the way down.

“You gotta be quiet baby, can you do that f’me? “, before he could reply, you gently pushed yourself onto his cock. He immediately covered his mouth with his hand, eyes going wide. As you settled down on his entire length, you placed your hands on his shoulders and slowly began to move.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, groaning with every movement you made, your walls clenching tightly around him.

As you felt your climax nearing, you had to cover your own mouth, out of the fear of making any noise, while your other hand was tightly gripping his shoulder.

The faint rustle of someone shifting in their sleep reminded you both of where you were, but it only seemed to heighten the thrill. The risk, the stolen intimacy—it made every touch, every whispered breath, feel electric.

Dae-ho’s hands held on to your waist for dear life, his nails leaving crescent-shaped marks on your skin. He bit your shoulder to prevent any noises, eliciting a gasp from you.

Without warning, he releases, painting your insides. You, however, continue riding him until your climax, a thick white line forming at the base of his cock.

Soon, you cum, staining his green jumper white. The both of you let out shaky breaths, still tightly holding on to each other, unable to let go. Dae-ho doesn’t pull out, rather, he simply turns around and snuggles into you, still filled to the brim with his release.

‘We can worry about this tomorrow’, you think to yourself before sleep takes over you.

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time and and I take genuine effort to do them.

[overtaken-stream]

Sweet Mornings

Kang Dae-ho x Gn!Reader

I did try to keep the reader gender neutral, but if you spot anything that's not GN please tell me so that I can fix it!

Summary: Dae-ho never fails to notice the beauty in something he has seen hundreds of times.

Warnings: No squid game, no debt, just bliss and mostly fluff, but watch out for a tiny explicit portion at the end.

Dae-ho is the kind of partner who calls you beautiful no matter how you look. To him, your appearance doesn’t matter—what truly matters is that he sees your beauty in every shape, outfit, style, and moment. Due to his inability to see you as anything but perfect, Dae-ho is considered unreliable to ask if something you're wearing looks good on you.

Every time he wakes up in your apartment, he can get drunk off the sheets that carry your perfume. The lingering body heat under the soft covers, even if one of you started the day early, lulls him back to sleep. Despite regaining consciousness just moments ago, his eyelids always feel heavier when left alone in bed. The sleeping spell can only be broken if his quiet mornings are interrupted—say, by you trying to put your clothes on in the dark, waking him up for a hot breakfast, or reminding him to lock the door when you leave for work.

His favorite, however, has to be when the blinds aren’t pulled all the way, leaving a long vertical gap for sunlight to peek through. On those mornings, he’s wide awake, feeling like a child too excited to sleep before a long-awaited school trip. And can he really be blamed? Can he be judged for staying awake to witness the domesticity of waking up by your side and watching you slowly come to your senses with the help of an alarm?

He can’t help but feel desperate when you sit upright in bed, yawning and stretching before getting up, half-naked, to put on your clothes. Your fingers firmly grasp the waistband of your trousers as you slide your legs in—completely oblivious to the view you've given him. Or perhaps you do it on purpose, just to tease him afterward (He patiently awaits the day you're bold enough to do it).

In any case, he thinks of himself as better than your average man who might gawk at a strangers bum, since it is your body and movements that always leave Dae-ho mesmerized, you, his one and only.

Sometimes, he can't help but smirk and bite down on his bottom lip, all to just to stop himself from jumping on you and taking you to a certain town, which both of you visit often.

He loves every part of you. The long and soft, the battered and sensitive ones.

It was on one of those golden mornings when Dae-ho's mind came to a conclusion.

No matter how often he gets to see you, it will never be enough. His eyes trace every movement, memorizing the curve of your body, the way the morning light kisses your skin, giving it a shine like no other, the sleepy sway of your hips as you stretch. It’s almost unfair—how effortlessly you captivate him, how easily you turn an ordinary morning into something intoxicating.

And if the way his dick pulses every morning at the sight of your ass isn’t proof enough, then maybe it’s the way his breath catches when you bend over to grab your shirt. Or the way his fingers twitch with the urge to pull you back into bed, to make you forget whatever plans you had for the day and softly caress you to your most vulnerable of places.

Because no matter how many times he gets to have you, watch you, wake up next to you—it will never, ever be enough.

He’ll wake up even when he’s old and wrinkled, watching you sleep beside him, and he’ll always be grateful for the chance to witness the same beauty he’s admired his entire life. Hundreds, if not thousands, of times, he’s seen you like this—peaceful, serene, effortlessly captivating. And yet, not once has he failed to notice. Not once has he taken it for granted.

[pacofprunes]

SQUID GAME REACTIONS — finding you injured after a night of attacking and fighting

CONTAINS — thanos x reader, daeho x reader, myung-gi x reader, namgyu x reader, gi-hun x reader, inho x reader, se-mi x reader, ali x reader

WARNINGS — injuries, mentions of death, the bathroom scene takes place in the women’s bathroom (or still the male depending on your gender), reader implied to be a girl in namgyus, squid game

your group had tried to stay together throughout the night in case something like this would happen, but with the amount of players, it was inevitable that at least one of you would come out of the night with multiple injuries.

you couldn’t tell who, but another player had knocked you to the ground and had busted your lip before you felt a sharp pain on the side of your neck. you put your hand up to it and felt a cold wetness. before your attacker could finish you off, the guards came in, shooting in the air, demanding everyone to stop. when the lights are on you look at your hand that you had used to touch your neck and it was covered in blood, and the person in front of you had a sharp needle like tool in their hand. the guards had patted you all down, taking every weapon everybody had. once the guards had finally left, announcing all the players who died, that’s when they realized. where were you?

KANG DAEHO

you hear your name being called before turning around and seeing daeho running to you, pulling you into a tight hug. his breaths getting cut off, trying to stop himself from crying before he pulls away and looks at you, fully grasping your injuries. the bottom corner of your lip busted in a deep shade of purple. your neck still dripping blood. he reaches his hand up to your face, grazing the injury on your lip before you pull it into your mouth behind your teeth. the pain starting to settle in as you scrunch your eyebrows together in discomfort.

“i’m so sorry.”

tears start slipping out of his eyes as he holds his hand on your neck, moving it and seeing his palm painted red. you open your mouth to speak but he just pulls you to one of the beds and forces you on it, taking his jacket off and holding it against your neck. he’s just stuck staring at the purple painting your lip and you cup his face in your hand, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“don’t cry.”

you wipe the silent streams pouring out of his eyes. he pulls you into a hug, still making sure the jacket doesn’t fall off of your neck. he mumbles something into your back.

“this isn’t right.”

you pull away, holding him by his shoulders.

“what?”

“i should be the one comforting you right now, not the other way around.”

you scoff, sending him a small smile and a playful smack to his chest despite the sting in your neck. you pull your hand up to your neck, right where daehos hand is and hold it, giving it a small squeeze and he smiles at you. he lets go of your neck, letting you hold his jacket there before he cups your face with both hands, placing a kiss to the corner of your lip where it was injured and then placing his head against yours.

“i won’t let you get hurt again, i’ll die before i let that happen.”

you give him a less playful hard smack to his shoulder, causing him to move back from your face and hold onto his shoulder. letting out an ow. you point your finger at him.

“don’t say that stupid shit again. if you die, i die. if you get out of here, i get out of here, okay? promise?”

you pull him back into a hug and he rubs his fingers through your hair. he takes a deep breath.

“okay, i promise.”

HWANG INHO / YOUNGIL / PLAYER 001

the moment he realized you weren’t near him, he found a guard and told them to end this whole thing. if you’d died, he’d never forgive himself. the moment he finds you, he grabs you by your shoulders and strokes his hand through your hair and moves down to glide his hand over your lip.

“are you okay?”

you were going to nod and brush it off but he notices you were holding the side of your neck so he grabs your hand and moves it and upon seeing all of the blood painting your neck, he stares for a few seconds before you put your hand on his shoulder, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“who did this?”

“youngil—”

he goes to cut you off to ask the same question but you stop him.

“it hurts.”

he softens his gaze before pulling you into his side and walking with you to the bathroom. upon arriving, he lifts you onto the sink counter before turning the water on. he walks into a stall and grabs a long strip of toilet paper, getting it wet before putting it on your neck, watching your face furrow in pain before you open your mouth.

“thank you.”

“you don’t need to thank me.”

he feels the slightest bit of guilt. knowing he’s not telling you who he really is. he’s in love with you, you could’ve died today, and unlike the actual games, he couldn’t have saved you from death. the bleeding finally stops and he uses a dry strip of toilet paper to dot up the leftover blood before taking your hand and helping you jump down from the sink. he still keeps a hold on your hand before he lets go. you look up at him before pulling him into a hug. saying another thank you into his shoulder. he doesn’t say anything back, trying to disassociate and act like this isn’t happening. he doesn’t want to feel guilty, he doesn’t want to love you, but he can’t help it. he simply just brings his hand up to your back and rubs it, letting out a heavy stressed out breath. god, what was he gonna do about you?

SEONG GI-HUN

he’s yelling your name the whole time and as soon as he catches sight of you he pulls you into a hug, immediately crouching down to be directly at your face level, cupping your face tightly in his hands. afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. the moment he notices your neck, he quickly puts his hand overtop of it before he just looks down at the floor, stifling a sob, whispering something under his breath, but you could hear him.

“i can’t lose you. no, not you too…”

you quickly pull him into a hug and he stands up straight before squeezing you even tighter, face in your jacket, balling his eyes out. for so long he’s kept his emotions under wraps since the first games, but coming so close to losing you, he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“you won’t lose me ‘ssangmun-dong’”

he pulls away, looking at you with teary eyes, his face absolutely drenched and he actually lets out a small laugh at that nickname, causing you to smile back. you run your hand through his hair before wiping it across his face and then gripping his arms, glueing them to his sides.

“don’t cry over me, okay? i’m still alive. if i keep looking at you like this, i think i’ll cry.”

he quickly wipes his tears and smiles at you and you laugh, only making his smile wider. he grabs your hand in his, squeezing it tight before pulling it up to his face.

“okay, but—”

he points his finger at you, as if scolding a child.

“don’t leave my side again or i’m sure that i’ll cry even harder than this.”

“deal. unless i have to use the bathroom.”

“no arguments there.”

THANOS / PLAYER 230 / CHOI SU-BONG

you had gone off to the bathroom, and not long after, the speakers start saying player numbers. he was too high out of his mind to connect the dots, but as soon as he sees you walk out of the doors up front all bloody and bruised and everybody yelling and fighting about what happened, he’s immediately running up to you, grabbing you by your shoulders, shaking you.

“who the fuck did this to you?”

you keep your mouth shut. if you’d told him, he’d definitely kill them. he goes to walk away and starts yelling at the other side, but you slap his shoulder, grabbing his wrist and pulling him behind the beds.

“stop. the more you fight, the worse things are going to end up.”

he looks at you, eyes going down to your swollen lip before his face softens. he presses a kiss to it.

“but they can’t—”

you press a hand to his mouth, waiting for his talking behind your palm to stop before you finally remove it and press your palm on your neck. he looks down at your bloody neck, staring for a few seconds before speaking.

“you’re not gonna die, right?”

you scoff.

“no i’m not gonna die yet you big dummy.”

he pulls you into a light hug.

“don’t say yet. you’re not gonna die at all.”

he pulls away and shakes his nails in your face.

“remember, the great thanos will protect you.”

NAMGYU / PLAYER 124

the moment he hears player numbers being called and realizes you were in the bathroom, he immediately stands up and starts messing with his sleeves, worried that one of the numbers called was yours and he just wasn’t listening well enough. as soon as people start flooding into the room bloody and screaming, his eyes dart searching for you before seeing you argue with some girl. her threatening to finish you off and you both throwing insults. he rushes over, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away before then pulling you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. he just stays like that with you for a long while before you have to force him away.

“are you okay?”

he scoffs, looking at your lip and then your neck.

“i should be asking you that.”

“it just hurts. not deadly.”

he bites his lip back before rubbing his hand on the wound on your neck, dabbing the blood with his sleeve.

“you’re too reckless.”

he mumbled that and you just laugh under your breath. he lifts your chin up to look at him.

“next time, you let me do the fighting, okay?”

you give him a look. a look that says ‘no way’ and he can read it easily despite the drugs in his system. he rolls his eyes.

“god, you’re gonna be the reason i die here, not these games.”

you smack his shoulder and he just pulls you into a side hug, patting your back.

MYUNG-GI / PLAYER 333 / MG COIN ★

as soon as he sees you walk out of the doors with everybody and he sees the blood painting your neck, he immediately runs up to you, pushing you over to a wall.

“what the hell happened?”

you open your mouth to respond but stop yourself upon seeing the worry and stress in his face.

“god, are you okay?”

you let out a shaky breath.

“it hurts, a little. i’m more shaken up then anything.”

noticing the tears starting to roll out of your eyes, he pulls you into a hug.

“myungi, i’m scared.”

he pulls away before placing one hand on your shoulder and staring into your eyes.

“i know, but you’ll —”

he cuts himself off.

“we’ll, be okay.”

you start fidgeting with your hands, but he stops you, putting your hands in his.

“okay?”

you nod your head slowly before he pulls you into him again. he’d take this place more seriously. he’d take you guys, your relationship more seriously. he wouldn’t let anything happen to you again.

SE-MI / PLAYER 380

the moment the lights are on and she’s not fighting anybody anymore, she frantically goes looking for you. she knew namgyu hated her, what if he killed you because of her? she couldn’t live with that. so the moment the lights come on and she sees you, she immediately pulls you into her.

“se-mi, are you okay?”

she pulls away.

“i was so scared i’d lost you.”

you take her hand in yours and squeeze it.

“i wouldn’t leave you in this place by yourself, promise.”

she laughs, rubbing the bruise over your lip softly, as if trying to wipe it away.

“you shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep, especially in here.”

you grab her wrist, and she pauses her glides over your lip.

“i’m being serious. as long as you’re here, i have a reason to stay alive.”

she sends a smile your way before she moves her finger up to her lip.

“okay. i’m putting my trust in you.”

she puts a hand on your shoulder, and you give her a reassuring smile before pulling her into a side hug. you were going to get out of here together.

—

ALI ABDUL

he was probably one of, if not the strongest person in that whole place. which is exactly why he was a main target when the fights broke out. you had been behind him but he was practically getting dog piled by people and couldn’t keep you near him. as soon as the lights turned on and the guy that was on top of him surrendered from the sound of gun shots, his head was immediately whipping around the room to look for you, before finally spotting you behind one of the toppled over beds. as soon as the guards finished patting everybody down, he immediately ran over to you, pushing past sangwoo and the moment you saw him you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. the moment he pulls you back and notices your lip he cups your face with both of his hands, staring at you intensely.

“oh my god—baby i’m so sorry—”

his eyes lower down to scan you more and they meet the large gash in your neck. he immediately lets go of you, taking his jacket off and tying it around your neck frantically. trying to keep it tight, but not tight enough to choke you. now it’s your turn to hold his face in your hands, he’s all bruised up as well, but still focused on you.

“look at you ali! you’ve got bruises all over you!”

he pulls you into a hug and holds your head, keeping it against his chest.

“stop. don’t worry about me. please.”

you pull away.

“you can’t just say that ali! that’s not fair! we’re in a game of death and sure, i could’ve died, but that’s not what i’m thinking about, it’s you!”

you press your head against his before speaking.

“baby, you can’t be so selfless. especially in here.”

you move your hand up to his cheek.

“you can worry about me, you can take care of me, but, i get to do the same with you.”

you look him in the eyes now. waiting for his approval. all he can do is stare into them lovingly before realizing you’re waiting for an answer and he bends down to your level, rubbing his hands on both your arms.

“yes, okay. we’ll stick together. i promise you.”

he gives you one of his smiles and within the darkness of this whole situation, he still managed to brighten up the whole room with that smile. squeezing your hand in his and you squeeze back.

[cutiebinni]

audrey - 20 yrs old - love kpop, kdrama

comment if you'd like to be a part of my taglist!!

i write for::

(my faves are in pink!)

squid game s2: cho hyunju, lee myung gi, kim junhee, seong gihun, salesman, hwang inho (front man), hwang junho, kang daeho, choi su-bong (thanos),

i will not be writing nsfw for hyunju because im not comfortable with writing nsfw about a trans person who hasnt undergone surgery

squid game s1: seong gihun, kang sae byeok, hwang junho, hwang inho (front man), cho sangwoo, ali abdul, salesman

masterlist

ask box is open, send whatever u'd like :) im not uncomfy with anything, so say anything!! mostly will write fem reader, but feel free to send male reader asks! nooo character x character tho pls ❌

up next: answering asks

anons: 🦴, 💋

[ourseasone]

CHAPTER 001 ∘ ∘ ∘ six feet under

previous masterlist next

you had always wondered how it would happen — how your death would unfold.

it was an idle question, one that crawled through your mind like an unwanted visitor, a thread of discomfort always lurking in the corners of your thoughts. the prospect of death had never seemed far away, not to you. it was as if, somewhere in the fog of your mind, you had always known it was coming.

but how? that was the question that rattled around in the dark recesses of your mind, unanswered and all the more ominous for it.

would you die in agony, in sharp, white-hot bursts of pain that tore through your body, each breath feeling like a knife against your chest? or would it be slow — graceful even, like the final exhale of a leaf falling from a tree? would you simply close your eyes one night, the world fading from your senses, slipping into an endless sleep, quiet and unremarkable? no dreams, no nightmares. nothingness.

and what if, you often wondered, what if it were to be the death of you young — before you had even learned to live, before the weight of regret could settle fully upon your shoulders?

so many questions, too many. none of them answered.

you did not want to die, but you did not want to live, either. there was something about the sharp edges of existence that gnawed at you, making each breath a little more laborious, each step more of a burden than the last.

sometimes you found yourself wondering if your soul had long since detached itself from your body, floating somewhere far above you, watching with dull eyes as your life played out, a series of dull, familiar motions. you had grown numb to your own reflection. what was the point, after all?

the words echoed in your mind like a dark prayer, and they weren’t your own. they belonged to your mother.

“you bring shame upon us.” her voice had trembled, not with sorrow, but with disgust.

her eyes, swollen from weeping, never met yours. instead, they stared into the floor as though she could burn holes into the wood with the force of her gaze. you had always wished she would look at you, really look at you, but in that moment, you knew she never would again.

and your father — your father’s words still seethed in your blood, a venomous reminder of the night they drove you out ;

“your very existence is a sin!” his voice, thick with rage, had almost shattered the air between you. it was a sentence passed down, a verdict that you had been too small to understand until it was too late.

loving a boy — while being a boy — was a betrayal of something sacred. a crime against the family, against the universe, against the world itself. and you had known it then, at the tender age of thirteen, that you were already broken. a terrible sinner. your very skin felt like a grotesque mark, a stain you could never wash away. it burned inside of you, a shame so deep it became part of your bones. a terrible abnormality, something that did not belong in the world.

but no one knew, not really. and if no one knew, did it really matter?

you tried to convince yourself that it didn’t. that your secret — your guilt, your burden — was only yours to carry, buried deep where no one could see. but that, too, became a lie. you had to see it. you had to feel it. and by the time you were sixteen, you had learned that no matter how far you buried it, no matter how hard you tried to forget it, that weight would always find its way back to you. it pressed down on you like the air inside a coffin, heavy, suffocating.

and then, the night everything cracked open.

it was your first kiss, and you still couldn’t remember the boy’s name. the kiss had been sharp, awkward — a messy thing, full of unexpressed words. but in that moment, something inside of you had felt alive. the kind of alive that terrified you.

and then the world had erupted in flames. your parents had seen you, their eyes wide with disbelief, with horror. it was as if they had uncovered something monstrous, something unholy, like they had discovered a twisted, grotesque creature living beneath their roof. this thing, this son of theirs… a monster.

the shouting, the accusations, the fists that fell upon you like heavy stones — you could still feel it all. still taste the metallic bite of blood in your mouth.

“disgusting! shameful! an abomination!” your father had yelled, each word more suffocating than the last.

your mother, barely more than a shadow in the corner, had stood frozen, the words from her lips so soft, yet so cutting: “we don’t know you anymore.”

and just like that, you were no longer their son. you were a stranger, a curse, something they had to discard. the door had slammed shut behind you with finality, the sound reverberating through your bones, leaving you cold and alone in the dark.

and there was no place left to run. no place to hide.

so, in the nights that followed, you wandered, hollowed out by the memory of what you had lost, searching for something — anything — that could ease the ache. you were a boy without a home, without hope, nothing more than an echo of the person you once thought you were. bruised, battered, broken in ways no one could see, you had trudged from one half-hearted job interview to the next, each rejection feeling like another blow to your spirit.

who would hire someone like you? the filthy kid who had nothing to his name but bruises and shame? who would dare to give you a chance when you were nothing more than a stain on society?

they called you a delinquent, a lost cause. you could feel their eyes on you, measuring you, judging you. they saw your brokenness, your raw edges, and they turned away.

at seventeen, you committed your first crime.

it had been inevitable — you had no choice. you had to live. you had to eat. the hunger gnawed at you, relentless and insatiable. every time you shut your eyes, it crept in, whispering in your ear. steal. the thought had been as natural as breathing, a quiet murmur in the back of your mind that you tried, and failed, to ignore.

it had been the simplest thing, almost too easy. your fingers had curled around the wallet without a thought, as though they had already known the motion, the act. the weight of it settled into your palm, the leather smooth and cool against your skin. it was alive in your hand, a silent pulse, beating in time with your heart.

your pulse roared in your ears, loud, frantic, but your hands — they didn’t shake. they were steady. too steady.

the world outside had not noticed, nor did it care, but inside, something had shifted. you had crossed an invisible line, one you never thought you would, but now that you had, it felt almost right. a strange sense of purpose settled in you, something that had been missing for so long. a spark in the dark.

it became routine after that.

your life, if it could still be called a life, became a rhythm of petty thefts and failed attempts at normalcy. sometimes you got caught. sometimes, it was the officers’ hands that clasped around your wrists, their eyes hard, their voices grating, asking questions that had no answers.

and then the beatings came. they were brutal, but they were familiar. the sting of fists against skin, the heavy thud of your body hitting pavement ; it was nothing new. just another layer of pain you had grown accustomed to.

but the first time you hurt someone — really hurt them — was something else entirely.

it had happened fast. a push, a shove. the man had been much older, much bigger, but you had snapped, the rage inside of you blooming out like a fire. the man had gone down quickly, and for a split second, there had been silence. then came the scream — the sickening, primal sound of flesh meeting flesh. and as the man crumpled to the ground, blood trickling from his nose, you stood there, stunned, your breath coming in jagged gasps.

but you hadn’t felt disgust. you hadn’t recoiled in horror, as you thought you might. instead, there had been something else. a thrill, almost. it had surged through you, coursing through your veins like electricity. your heart had beaten harder, faster, the adrenaline flooding your senses.

so this is how it feels, you thought. this is what the world has made of me.

you had given it back. the cruelty. the hatred. you had simply returned it, let it flow through your veins, and pour out of your fists. and somehow, it felt like justice — your justice. the world had been so cruel to you, so relentless. what else was there to do but give it back?

maybe this was how you would die ; not in a bed, not peacefully in your sleep, but with blood on your hands and nothing left inside you. not even regret. no, there was no place for that. just emptiness. a hollow heart, an empty soul, and the quiet hum of inevitability, the steady drip drip drip of time passing, as if it had all been predestined.

maybe you had already started dying a long time ago.

now, at thirty, you had a real job.

it wasn’t glamorous. nothing like what you had imagined when you were younger, dreaming of a life far from the muck you had been born into. no, now you were a courier. you moved through the city’s veins, carrying things from one place to another, the contents of your deliveries unimportant. just packages, little parcels, some of which you could guess at, others which you’d never dare ask about. people who didn’t want questions, who paid in cash, never looked you in the eye.

the job had been born from necessity. it had been five years since your boss had taken you in — a last resort, a man desperate enough to look past your troubled past. you had taken the job because there was nothing else, nothing else that could promise even the smallest morsel of stability. the money was better than starving, after all. and sometimes, survival was enough.

but the past… it never truly stayed behind, did it?

no, the past had a way of catching up to you, clawing at your heels, dragging you back into the shadows where you’d always been. and so, inevitably, it happened: your boss must have finally grown tired of you. perhaps it had been the endless problems — missteps, failures, slips of trust. or maybe it was just the fact that a man like you could never escape the gravity of your own history.

that day, the air had felt thick, heavy with the kind of silence that stretches just a little too long. you stood in front of your boss, the man’s face unreadable. there was no anger, no frustration, just… resignation. with a single flick of his wrist, the boss slid the termination letter across the desk.

not a word. not even a glance.

you stared at the paper for a long moment, the weight of it sinking into your chest.

“you’re done. don’t come back.” your boss had said, his voice low, devoid of anything resembling compassion.

a simple gesture, a dismissal. nothing left but the lingering scent of a goodbye that hadn’t been spoken aloud. you didn’t speak. there was nothing left to say. you had already known, deep down, this moment was coming. it always had been.

with a hollow breath, you took the letter, crumpling it in your fist before you left. the door clicked shut behind you, and you were alone once more, standing on the edge of a world that had no place for you, no future, no promise of anything but more of the same.

the city stretched before you, cold and indifferent, as it always had been. the weight of your past, your sins, your failures — they would follow you. always.

▬▬▬▬▬ ※ ▬▬▬▬▬

a fist slammed into your face, sharp, brutal — a punishing blow that snapped your head to the side. you barely flinched. your skin had grown used to pain, accustomed to it like an old companion.

“you little son of a bitch,” the man hissed, his hands gripping your collar, his breath rancid with cheap whiskey and rage, thick with the stench of desperation. “where the fuck is my money, huh? huh?!”

you let out a slow breath, tasting blood on your tongue, the coppery tang mixing with the sourness of the air in the dim, claustrophobic subway restroom. you smiled, just a little, barely more than a twitch of your lips.

“which money?” your voice was low, casual, like you were asking for directions, not for your life to be spared.

another hit came, this time harder, more savage. your cheek burned, your head snapping back again, but still, you didn’t blink. you didn’t even really feel it. your whole body ached with the kind of numbness that only comes after years of the same damn thing.

it hurts like a bitch, damn.

“five years!” the man’s voice was an animal growl now, cracking with frustration. he swung again, the blow landing with a sickening thud. “five fucking years and you haven’t even paid back a third?!”

the man staggered back, gasping for breath, struggling to keep his balance on the slick, grimy tiles beneath you. you could feel the tremor of power in the man’s movements, the last remnants of control slipping through his fingers like sand.

you opened your mouth, your usual sarcasm ready to spill out, but you stopped yourself. the man, already on edge, had pulled a knife from his pocket.

ah… shit.

the blade gleamed under the flickering fluorescent light, its sharp edge catching the soft glow as the man slowly brought it up to your face.

“y/n, y/n…” the man sang, his voice sweet but dripping with malice. “you know i like you, hm? it’d be a real shame to kill such a pretty little thing like you, hm?”

you felt a chill creep down your spine, but you didn’t show it. you turned your head slightly, letting the blade slide along your skin, the cold steel pressing hard against your left cheek. not enough to cut… yet. the man’s rancid breath mingled with the suffocating stench of piss and mold that clung to the bathroom, and your stomach lurched.

you could almost taste it — the sickening rot in the air, the vile heat of the man’s body so close to your own.

“ah…” you muttered, barely above a whisper, your mind scrambling for anything that might buy you a moment more. “you know i’ve been as busy as a dog lately—”

“2,438,531,000 won exactly,” the man cut you off, his voice sharp, final. “you owe me two fucking billion won. and the longer you take, the more it’ll increase.”

you swallowed, the dry lump in your throat thick with dread. he’s going to kill me. i’m fucking dead.

the numbers echoed in your skull, each digit more suffocating than the last. a whole lifetime wouldn’t be enough to pay it back — hell, even five lifetimes wouldn’t do it. you both knew it, and you had known it from the start. the man had been patient, but this patience was wearing thin. your heart raced, your thoughts scrambling, but the truth was there, sitting like a weight in your chest.

it was a miracle you had made it this far. five years of running, of bargaining, of scraping by with the last scraps of hope — and now, the end was finally coming.

“this is your last warning,” the man said, his voice low and deadly.

he pressed the blade harder into your skin, and you could feel the faintest scrape as the cold steel cut just a hair’s breadth into the flesh of your cheek. a thin line of blood welled up, trickling down.

“did i fucking make myself clear?!”

you gritted your teeth, nodding slowly. the blade burned into you, and for a moment, you could feel the press of your own mortality. one final push, and it would be over. one slip of the hand, one wrong move, and this was where it would end. but you couldn’t show fear. no, that was something you had abandoned a long time ago.

the man seemed to take that as compliance. satisfied, he gave your unmarred cheek a few sharp slaps, the sound ringing in the damp air. each one felt like a mark burned into your soul. with a grunt, the man straightened up, pocketing the knife. without another word, he turned and strode out of the bathroom, the door creaking closed behind him with a finality that made the air in the room feel even thicker.

you stood there for a long moment, your hand hovering near the cut on your cheek, blood still trickling down in thin, sluggish lines. your head spun. your body ached. your entire being felt as if it were suspended in some kind of awful limbo. you could still hear the man’s voice echoing in your skull, feel the sting of his words, the promise of violence that hung in the air like poison.

and yet, as you wiped the blood from your face, all you could think was : i’m still alive.

still alive…

but for how long?

previous masterlist next

note ∘ ∘ ∘ it took me so long omg but the first chapter is finally here! the second chapter should be published very very soon too!!

taglist ∘ ∘ ∘ @suunani @startaegi @dae-ho-talkz @naomiisocutiee @aspekt-touch @twomocns @exisou @11erinome11 @juuyeeos @cronasluvr @miltzzy @lem0nshark-writes @jspidey5 @xandytheghostface @barrythestrawberry041 @catlalice @marxenash @dearestainex (please let me know if you wanna be added!)

[carnalcrows]

SUB DAE-HO HEADCANNONS

pairing: daeho x top male reader

He’s like the sweetest thing in bed– always asking for your permission before doing anything.

He likes being held close– whether it be in a mating press or a nelson; whichever angle makes him face you.

PRAISE KINK PRAISE KINK !!! This man is an obvious sucker for any sort of praise– it gives him a sense of accomplishment, especially since he didn’t get a lot as a kid.

This doesn’t happen often, but he likes it when you tie his hands together at the back and proceed to fuck him raw. The sense of absolute powerlessness does things to this man’s brain that I can’t even explain.

He definitely has a sir kink. Especially after saying it so much when he was a part of the Marines, it seems only natural for it to translate into his life under the sheets.

This man loves getting his hair pulled. When you're fucking into him from behind and you pull his hair to make him turn and face you? Folded.

He seems cocky on the outside though– out in the streets acting like he’s the one leading the relationship– while he’s whimpering and moaning like a bitch in heat as you pound into him relentlessly.

He loves sucking your cock– to a point where it’s probably become and oral fixation. You don’t even have to be hard, he’ll just come up to you, kneel down and pull your soft dick out of your pants before simply putting it in his mouth. It’s become a habit.

 This is one of the very rare occasions, but he loves it when you basically use him as a flesh-light. Had a bad day at work? He’s on all fours on your shared bed– lubed ass up, all ready for you.

This man would NOT even hesitate to be a housewife if you wanted him to be. Anything for his beloved husband boyfriend.

Loves it when you act like you're going to get him pregnant. He knows it's impossible for two men to have a baby biologically– but who said you couldn’t try? (his words, not yours)

Be sure to give this man the SWEETEST aftercare afterwards. If you simply leave him on the bed and go off to do something else, he will burst into tears.

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

[carnalcrows]

the rain

genre: fluff, angst

pairing: daeho x male reader

cw: panic attacks, mentions of the events of squid game.

a/n: requested by @ryomenhadryan (req). I was gonna make this smut but decided not to last minute 😭😭. sorry boss.

The pitter-patter of rain against the window was soothing, a gentle rhythm that usually helped you sleep. But tonight, you woke up to something else. A sharp, shaky gasp.

Turning over, you saw Dae-ho sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, his broad shoulders trembling. His hair was damp with sweat despite the chill in the air, and his breaths came shallow and fast.

“Dae?” you murmured, your voice soft, not wanting to startle him.

He flinched but didn’t look at you right away. His fingers curled into fists against his thighs. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, barely audible over the rain.

“You keep saying that lately,” you said, sitting up and scooting closer. “What’s going on? Ever since you came back, you’ve been… different.”

He froze for a moment, then exhaled shakily. “I can’t… I can’t talk about it.”

“Dae-ho, you vanished for a week. You wouldn’t answer my calls or texts. Then you come back looking like you’ve been to hell and back—with a duffel bag of cash, no less. I deserve to know what’s going on.”

“I know you do,” he said, his voice cracking. “But I can’t tell you. It’s not safe.”

“Not safe? What does that even mean?” you asked, frustration creeping into your voice. But then you saw the look on his face—a mix of guilt, fear, and something you couldn’t quite place. Your anger melted away. “Dae, whatever happened… you don’t have to carry it alone. Please, let me in.”

He shook his head, still avoiding your gaze. “You don’t understand. If I tell you, they might come for you. And I can’t lose you. I can’t…” His voice broke, and you reached out, placing a hand on his back.

The contact seemed to snap something in him. He turned to you, his eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. “I had to do terrible things,” he whispered. “To survive. To make it back to you.”

“Dae…” you began, but he cut you off, his hand coming up to cup your face.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Stop saying that,” you replied, your own voice firm despite the lump in your throat. “You’re here. You came back to me. That’s what matters.”

His thumb brushed against your cheek, and he leaned in hesitantly, as if afraid you might push him away. But you didn’t. You closed the distance, your lips meeting his in a kiss that started soft but quickly grew more fervent.

The rain outside intensified, the sound of it blending with the rapid beat of your heart. You moved closer, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair as he deepened the kiss, his desperation bleeding through every movement.

“Dae-ho,” you murmured against his lips, your fingers trailing down to grip his shoulders. “Whatever happened, we’ll get through it. Together.”

He nodded, his forehead resting against yours. “I don’t deserve you,” he repeated, though this time it sounded less like a protest and more like a prayer.

“You deserve everything,” you replied, kissing him again.

His hand traced the curve of your back, savouring the warmth. Your lips met his once more, a silent vow to never leave his side.

When you broke apart after what felt like eons, you cradled Dae-ho in your arms, raking your hand through his hair and whispering sweet nothings.

The rain continued to fall, but the storm inside Dae-ho seemed to quiet as you held him. And though you didn’t have all the answers, you knew one thing for sure: you’d stand by him, no matter what.

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time and and I take genuine effort to do them.

[naelvze]

ITS NOT A JOKE ANYMORE

SUB DAE-HO HEADCANNONS

pairing: daeho x top male reader

He’s like the sweetest thing in bed– always asking for your permission before doing anything.

He likes being held close– whether it be in a mating press or a nelson; whichever angle makes him face you.

PRAISE KINK PRAISE KINK !!! This man is an obvious sucker for any sort of praise– it gives him a sense of accomplishment, especially since he didn’t get a lot as a kid.

This doesn’t happen often, but he likes it when you tie his hands together at the back and proceed to fuck him raw. The sense of absolute powerlessness does things to this man’s brain that I can’t even explain.

He definitely has a sir kink. Especially after saying it so much when he was a part of the Marines, it seems only natural for it to translate into his life under the sheets.

This man loves getting his hair pulled. When you're fucking into him from behind and you pull his hair to make him turn and face you? Folded.

He seems cocky on the outside though– out in the streets acting like he’s the one leading the relationship– while he’s whimpering and moaning like a bitch in heat as you pound into him relentlessly.

He loves sucking your cock– to a point where it’s probably become and oral fixation. You don’t even have to be hard, he’ll just come up to you, kneel down and pull your soft dick out of your pants before simply putting it in his mouth. It’s become a habit.

 This is one of the very rare occasions, but he loves it when you basically use him as a flesh-light. Had a bad day at work? He’s on all fours on your shared bed– lubed ass up, all ready for you.

This man would NOT even hesitate to be a housewife if you wanted him to be. Anything for his beloved husband boyfriend.

Loves it when you act like you're going to get him pregnant. He knows it's impossible for two men to have a baby biologically– but who said you couldn’t try? (his words, not yours)

Be sure to give this man the SWEETEST aftercare afterwards. If you simply leave him on the bed and go off to do something else, he will burst into tears.

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.